Thanks for the Memories
by Batmanluvr
Summary: …even though they weren’t so great. A series of oneshots depicting Batman and Joker’s ongoing fight of the insane and sane, and maybe even some other moments. Batman/Joker
1. GoldenPlated

Title: Thanks for the Memories

Summary: …even though they weren't so great. A series of oneshots depicting Batman and Joker's ongoing fight of the insane and sane, and maybe even some other moments

**A/N:** This is not slash, at least I don't think it is… there is no romance or anything between Batman and Joker, but I'm not going to say that this isn't a Batman/Joker fic. And this isn't exactly a friendship fic either, but I don't know what it is! It's not slash, it's not friendship, it's just some good ol' Batman/Joker.

The title to this series is from the song _Thnks fr th Mmrs_ by Fall Out Boy. Yes, I know that the song has nothing to do with this, but I just liked how the lyrics fit in. Speaking of songs and lyrics, each oneshot will start off with a set of lyrics from a few of my favorite songs, and each story will be based on them. Yes, usually the song will not necessarily have anything to do with the story. Most of the time, it would just so happen that the lyrics fit in well, so… yeah. Please review! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own.

XXXXX

How cruel is the Golden Rule?

When the lives we live are only golden-plated.

And I knew that the lights in the city were too heavy for me.

Though I carried karats for everyone to see…

from _Golden_ by Fall Out Boy

XX Golden-Plated XX

The alleys of the infamous Gotham city lit up with red and blue lights and the shrill scream of sirens as the many police cruisers zoomed by. Though Batman knew that the good cops meant well, he knew that their attempts to find the Clown Prince of Crime were futile. The Joker was just too smart to be caught that simply… like all the other times.

Batman ground his teeth together harder as he swerved the Batmobile through the dark, dank streets of Gotham himself. Though the police would probably not locate Joker, the clown had always had a knack of coming up to the Bat personally. After all these years, the madman still found all this fighting as some demented game. The thought sickened the vigilante. So many had died at the hand of this insane villain, and he still had the nerve to laugh in his own sick little world.

The clown had planted bombs in a building hosting a charity ball that night, a charity ball Bruce Wayne had just so decided to skip out on so he could work on tracking the certain Arkham Asylum escapee. Just as planned, the explosions went off, sending the party sky high in a cloud of red, fervent flames. No one had escaped.

What was strange about the whole thing was that no money had been stolen. Batman had searched the whole city, and there was no trace of a clown running away from the smoldering party with any goods… and it was a charity ball! The Joker was too smart to just blow up a party loaded with money without taking at least a penny.

Maybe he had just taken the penny... Maybe that was his sick punch line…

…No. He was too smart for that.

Batman brought the car to a screeching stop in a tight alleyway and slid out from his seat. The still somewhat burning building was only a few blocks away from where he was standing. Maybe the Joker would come to him now that he was just on foot.

He spent the next few moments running through the streets soundlessly. Scampering from alleyway to alleyway. Leaping from roof to roof. No Joker yet.

Maybe this wasn't Joker's doing. There wasn't any joke… Not that any of his jokes would ever qualify as a joke for that matter.

But it had to be him! Batman smacked the brick wall beside him with the side of his gloved fist.

"A little frustrated, are we Batsy?" came a somewhat raspy chuckle. Batman slowly turned to find the clown standing behind him down the alleyway. The trademark grin was plastered to his face, and he let out a guffaw. The Joker had finally come.

"What's your game?" Batman asked through gritted teeth, taking a few steps forward.

Another fit of laughter came. "_Hahahahahahaaaaaa!_ Do you think irony is funny, Batsy?" the criminal questioned through his never-fading smile, arms spread wide.

Batman only plodded forward, snatched the clown from by the collar of his purple suit, and hoisted him into the air. The Joker's back collided with the hard brick wall as Batman brought him up to face him face-to-face.

"What do you want?" the vigilante growled menacingly.

Joker's smile only grew, and he did nothing to attempt to free himself from the Dark Knight's tight grasp.

"I said, do you think irony is funny? Hmm, Batsy? Do you think it's funny?"

The Caped Crusader could only stare.

The Joker continued. "'Cause I think it's just _hilarious,_" he seethed, "for low scum like Gotham's rich kids to donate perfectly good money to low scum like the people in those _stupid good-for-nothing_ charities! _Hahahahahahaaaa!_"

_Boom_. Batman's fist collided with the clown's face, and the Joker let out a gag.

"What are you talking about?" Batman rasped.

"You know what I'm talking about, Batsy! Heheheheheeee… You know that when those _filthy_ little _pukes_ spend their _stupid_ _good-for-nothing _lives on the filth out there or wherever, they're doing nothing but showing off their _good-for-nothing_ flare!"

Joker was obviously not in a good mood, but Batman wasn't understanding any of it.

"What does it mean to you?"

"What do you mean, what does it mean to me?!" the madman exclaimed pushing grasping at the vigilante's fist that was holding him in the air. "Why wouldn't it mean anything to me when those _stupid_ little twits go out and show off their _stupid _little lives and get praised by _everyone!? Everyone!_ Those little pieces of _trash _are no better than _me! Me!! Hahahahahahaaaaa!"_

What was he talking about?

The clown's guffaws slowly diminished into slow chuckles, then into soft snickers.

"You don't get, Batsy. Do you?"

Batman only glared, unsure of what to say or think.

"_You don't get it! Do you!?_" the man screamed, kicking the wall behind him. What was he being so rattled up about?

"They think they're better than me! Is that just it?! They think they're better because they've never _stolen_ anything from a bank, or _kidnapped _a little child, or _killed _an innocent child!" He was breathing heavily now. Sweat was rolling down his pale white face.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"You killed all those people," Batman muttered, "just because you thought they thought they were better than you."

The Joker let out what seemed to be a growl. "You still don't understand? Those _dimwits _think that giving a few million bucks to some hobos out in the streets makes them the heroes of the world, that it erases their _wrongs! Their sins! _It doesn't work that way, you know?! They're just as_ filthy_ as every mugger, robber, and insane maniac in Arkham and Black Gate! And yet the city loves them!" He pointed an accusing finger at the sleeping city above. "_They _should be the ones rotting in dark cells for years. _They _should be the ones getting persecuted! Not only _us! They're_ no different! And yet they're praised, worshipped even! Tell me, Batsy! Why does that only seem _wrong _to me?! Why only me?!"

He was no longer smiling, and Batman had no idea how to answer. It was strange. He had never seen the madman show so such… emotion.

"Batman?"

The vigilante turned to his left to find police cars and a cop standing before him. He shoved the Joker to them, which earned him a grunt from the clown.

"And of all people, I thought you would understand, Batsy," the madman muttered as he was handcuffed, but he gave no struggle. Finally, just as he was being pushed into the police car, the same old insane grin found its way up to his white face. A cackle escaped from his lips.

"_Hahahahahahaaaa!"_

_They should be the ones getting persecuted! Not only us! They're no different!_

Maybe Joker had a point. In a way, he himself was no better than the thugs in the Asylum…

… but did that mean the Joker actually cared? Did the madman actually have a heart to care?

The officer was about to close the door on the clown, but Batman caught it, waving the cop off.

"Joker," he muttered.

The Clown Prince of Crime looked up with a crazed grin. "What is it darling?" he sneered.

There was a pause as Bruce thought of what to say.

"You're right," he finally murmured. Another pause. "The lives we live… They're only golden-plated."

The statement made Joker's smirk widen.

"So you do understand. Do you, Batsy? _Hahahahahaaaaa!_ Too bad good ol' Brucie Wayne couldn't come enjoy the fireworks also. _Hahahahahahaaa_!"

Batman watched as the cruiser sped off, sirens blaring. He pondered the Joker's proposition. Strange how a madman like him would notice.

He was right, though. The lives they lived were only golden-plated, even his own. Even the Batman.

And what did that mean for Joker? That he also was also putting on an act for the world to see? Did he want the city to see an insane maniac? A psycho? Or was that just the outside? Was he better than that? Did he actually have good in him?

Batman left it at that.

XXXXX

Joker had the back of his head resting on the top of the seat in the police cruiser so that he was staring at the ceiling.

_The lives we live… They're only golden-plated._

How true was that? And how well said too!

It made a giggle escape his lips.

If the lives everyone lived were only golden-plated, what would that make good ol' Batsy? Who was he really? Was he the filth everyone else was, or was he better when opened up to his true self?

The thought made him laugh. Batsy was Batsy. He would always be Batsy, and Joker vowed to be satisfied with him if he was true trash or really golden inside. He didn't care.

_Hahahahahahaaaaaaa!!_


	2. The Voice Inside My Head

Where are you? And I'm so sorry.

I cannot sleep. I cannot dream tonight.

I need somebody and always.

This sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time,

And as I stared, I counted the webs from all the spiders

Catching things and eating their insides

Like indecision to call you and hear your voice of treason.

Will you come home and stop this pain tonight… stop this pain tonight?

Don't waste your time on me. You're already the voice inside my head.

I miss you… I miss you…

from _I Miss You_ by Blink 182

XX The Voice Inside My Head XX

Joker was becoming restless and agitated.

The plan was flawless, so well drawn out, so indestructible that it was practically the picture of perfection itself. The clues quite obviously pointed directly to him. It was so obvious! A dead body here, an exploding building here, a few joker gas bombs going off right here. Batman should be getting the hints any second now. The punch line. There wasn't a single way in earth, heaven, or even hell that the plan could fail, but doubt was beginning to crawl into the clown's mind. What if Batsy didn't show?

But he had to come! He was the _Batman_ for crying out loud! There was no possible way that he couldn't show up!

Then what was taking him so long?

The Clown Prince of Crime slumped into a metal chair and studied the dark remains of the abandoned warehouse surrounding him. It had been weeks since he had escaped from Arkham, yet he hadn't even caught a glimpse of his favorite little flying rat. He had figured that just placing one foot beyond that blasted asylum's threshold was good enough reason for the dark-clad vigilante to come swooping down to the rescue, but no one had shown.

Where was Batsy?!

_Batsy… Please don't keep me waiting like this…_

With a growl of frustration, he raked a hand through his greasy, dark green hair and kicked at a nearby wooden crate. It was a good thing he had left Harley back at Arkham. Who knows how annoying she would be?

It wasn't that he hated Harley. No, that wasn't it. The kid meant good, even though she could sometimes get out of hand. Most of the time. No, he had left her back at that hellish asylum to focus. To focus on the bat, and only the bat, his true obsession.

_Did you know that, Batsy? I'm obsessed with you. I miss you dearly. Why don't you come out to play? Hmmmmmm?_

The Joker cocked his head back and let out a crazed cackle only a true insane madman could deliver. His voice rang louder as the laughter echoed against the warehouses rusting metal walls.

Back at Arkham, he had always mused about Batman and his relationship. Yes, a relationship, even though poor Batsy didn't realize it. The only reason he escaped from Arkham every time was because he was _obsessed,_ because he loved the game he and his bat played every time. The fighting and battling. Batman was the one who crazed him, the one who drove him insane, and he loved it. He couldn't help but come back for more. And deep down inside, he knew that Batman loved it too.

He knew Batman was just as _obsessed_ as he was.

Another laughing fit came, and he welcomed it gladly. If the dead victims around the city didn't draw Batsy to him, the volume of his laughter certainly would.

And where was good old Batsy? Certainly he wasn't this slow. How could he keep good ol' Mr J waiting like this? Didn't he know that his clown was just _dying _to see him once more?

_Hahahahahahaaaa! Where are you Batsy? Hmmmm? I miss you. I can't sleep after all these nights of not seeing your lovely, grimacing face._

He set his gloved hands on his knees and leaned forward dramatically, eyeing the metal door of the warehouse. Batman could burst in at any second, and Joker would make sure to greet him happily. He could hear his voice now, how he would yell at him. He could imagine every grunt he would give off as he punched his face, and the sound was like music to Joker's ears. It was the same voice that came to him every night in that asylum.

And Joker was sure that good ol' Batsy was haunted by his own laughing voice just as well.

Suddenly there was a sharp _ring_ behind him, like a sword being drawn. Then there was the unmistakable Batarang being held at his face from someone standing behind. Joker's smile grew.

"So you finally decided to show up! Hey Batsy! Do you even know how _depressed_ I've been ever since you locked me back up at the asylum all those months ago?" A high giggle escaped his lips, and his body began to shake with excitement. The bat had finally arrived!

"It took you long enough." Another giggle. "How could you keep me waiting for that long? I've _missed_ you." He could hardly suppress the guffaws that were bubbling in his throat now. His body remained seated, though it quaked.

Batman's whispered quietly behind him. "What do you want, Joker?" The icy coldness of his breath against his ear made Joker shiver pleasure. He had waited so long to hear that raspy, gravelly voice again.

"I want _you_, Batsy. I want youuuu…"

A pause. Joker kept his eyes fixated ahead as he listened to Batman's breathing behind him. His own heart was thumping crazily with excitement.

"Nothing else? No money? No jewels?"

Joker dared to let out a snicker, then another. "No money. No jewels. Only me and you, Batsy. Doesn't that make you feel special? Heeheeheeheeheeeeeee…" He held out the last giggle for effect.

"What about those innocent people that were murdered?" the voice growled.

"That was only an invitation… so you would come… and I just knew you would," he seethed. His body began to shake more violently with anticipation.

"And how did you know that?"

"Because I know you're _obsessed_ with me, Batsy. You've just never admitted it."

"…"

There was a dark menacing chuckle, and Joker turned in his seat to face Batman. Oh how he loved that beautiful mask. He'd practically died not seeing it for so long.

"I've missed you so much, Batsy. Are you glad to see me?"

XXXXX

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce managed to pry an eye open, and then the other. He squinted at bright lights pouring in through the windows.

"Master Bruce?"

With a moan of pain, he turned to his right, where the butler was hovering over his bed.

"Master Bruce?"

"What, Alfred?"

"You have a conference at eight o'clock."

He turned to the alarm clock on the desk to the left of his bed. 7:27.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"You came in rather late last night, sir," came the short reply.

A pause. "How late?"

"About four this morning, sir." Alfred turned to the closet to get out a suit for his master while Bruce attempted to sit up in his sore body.

What a strange dream… Joker had been locked up in Arkham for the past three months and this is what he got? Strange dreams about that psycho maniac? It sent shivers down Bruce's spine.

_I'm obsessed with you, Batsy._

With a sigh, he stared down at the thick black sheets of his bed. How could a sick, demented dream like _that_ manage to find its way into his head? _I've missed you, Batsy._ Seriously? How could that be possible.

What if that was what Joker was thinking right now in his cell? Another shudder ran through his body. That insane madman could be doing anything in there, and Bruce thought it best not to dwell on things like that. He was probably scheming on his next escape.

_Are you waiting, Batsy? Are you obsessed? Do you miss me? Am I the voice inside your head? Hahahahahahahaaaa!_


End file.
